


The Galaxy

by mydrunkjoey



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Borussia Dortmund, Fluff, M/M, Romance, i said that my previous pierreus fic was the fluffiest thing i ever written, it's almost embarrassing how cheesy it is, which is a lie because this is the fluffiest thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2014-12-11
Packaged: 2018-03-01 01:08:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2753936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydrunkjoey/pseuds/mydrunkjoey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At 4:28am, Auba feels particularly lucky. The early hours-- late hours-- whatever people call it, is painted purple and navy blue, speckled with distant stars. The room's dimly lit by a corner lamp, and aside from the sound of the heater rumbling behind the bed, it's quiet. A complete contrast than what it was like two hours ago, when Marco was soft and hot against him, muttering words that couldn't be legal in either of their mother tongues. The callback is enough to get Auba a little frazzled, arms dotted with goosebumps as he grins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Galaxy

      At 4:28am, Auba feels particularly lucky. The early hours-- late hours-- whatever people call it, is painted purple and navy blue, speckled with distant stars. The room's dimly lit by a corner lamp, and aside from the sound of the heater rumbling behind the bed, it's quiet. A complete contrast than what it was like two hours ago, when Marco was soft and hot against him, muttering words that couldn't be legal in either of their mother tongues. The callback is enough to get Auba a little frazzled, arms dotted with goosebumps as he grins.

      Marco usually snores, too exhausted to fix his posture or too stressed out to dream of happier things. But Auba considers it a successful night when the only sound being uttered by the fair German, are smooth exhales. The fact that Auba's awake at this time, has nothing to do with Marco's obnoxious snoring for once. (Even if he does find them cute.)

      It's Marco's birthday, or at least, it was about four and a half hours ago. Funny enough, Auba's the one still hyped up about the fact that Marco's another year older, another year wiser, another year that Marco is his, and that he is Marco's. It's so cheesy that he doesn't actually want to mention it, though the statement is strong enough in his head that he wouldn't be surprised if he lets it out. He considers letting Marco know anyways, just so he can see Marco smile that lopsided smile.

      At 4:40am, Auba runs his fingers through blonde hair. He takes note of how soft it is, regardless of the amount of styling put into it, and he grins as he remembers how strong it is as well-- strong enough that Auba can tug it hard and rough and have it stay put. He stops for a moment, a warm palm smoothing over Marco's cheek, and to his surprise, Marco peers up. His eyes are visibly strained from the long night, but they're beautiful and maroon and grey, and Auba doesn't even stop the action.  
      “You're bad at being subtle.”  
      “Wasn't trying to be,” Auba murmurs, obviously bursting with too much adoration to hold back his shameless words. Marco grins, and slaps the other's hand away, to which results in an understandable frown.  
      “You're really gay,” he whispers, canine teeth brimming as he sits up, Marco sliding an arm around Auba's neck. It's a possessive gesture, paired with playful words that have Auba grinning. Possessive and playful, traits that matched them both. “Incredibly, incredibly gay.” The Gabonese parts his mouth to taunt back when Marco cuts him off with lips, forget-me-not lips that felt like they were meant for Auba's, like they were 4:28am purple skies with stars in them.  
      Possessive and playful, Auba pulls Marco close, both arms wrapping around his waist as the kiss deepens. It doesn't matter how many times it's happened, because once Marco flicks his tongue, Auba gets a little dizzy. He's thankful that they're already naked, and takes advantage of the way Marco's legs are bent and beautiful. With a quick push forward, Auba has the other on his back, and in between the tangled mess of blankets, Marco's laughing. Auba loves that stupid laugh.  
      “My little monkey,” he murmurs against the young man's neck. It's a dumb nickname that derived from their goal celebrations, but it stuck, and Marco smacks the back of Auba's head with a grin on his charming face. Peering up from his collarbone, Auba is rewarded with another kiss, and another, and another. It's like Christmas in May, and Marco is his delectable gift.

      Auba trails kisses down fair skin only to be stopped by two palms on his cheeks. Their eyes meet again, hazy and lustful with desire, except this time Marco looks serious. Almost frighteningly so. He watches Marco, heart thumping erratically until Marco leans forward for a kiss. It's a cliché thought, but it's different from the others. It's slow, steady, and it almost hurts how much Auba's feeling all at once. He loves Marco, always has and had always said so, but with Marco pulling away and looking at Auba like he's looking at something important-- looking at Auba like how Auba looks at Marco, he forgets how to breathe.  
      “Thank you Pierre.” Marco thanks him, like Auba isn't the one receiving the kiss, and the amazing evening, and the boy-- the boy who could've had anyone else.  
      “Stop it before I tell you how crazy I am about you,” Auba threatens, a scoff following after as Marco laughs. Beautiful Marco with his perfect hair, and his perfect body, and his perfect laugh. Auba doesn't know if it's possible for someone to be on top of the world, and yet he finds himself thinking that the smiling face beneath him is more than someone on top of the world, but the world itself. And maybe it's showing on his face, but Marco cups his cheek, and smooths a thumb over Auba's temple. It's the happiest he's felt in a long while.

      At 5:00am, Auba looks at the sky, then at Marco, and for once, the stars aren't the most beautiful in the galaxy.

**Author's Note:**

> I was listening to Corey Gray's "Where We're Going" and looking at a photo of Pierreus when inspiration for this came up. I actually want to apologize with how obscenely cheesy it is, but I didn't know what to do with all my feelings... Also, someone had asked me to write more Pierreus, and I gave in. (Willingly.)
> 
> Someday I'll write proper sexy scenes...
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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